Well, I've managed to avoid any "Vox-drama" for 2 years, now, I guess my peaceful reign has come to an end. Gotta put the Vox-Blog on lockdown, now - so - anyone new to my blog - or anyone who found me via facebook or twitter and wants to continue reading my posts, you'll have to join vox and drop me a comment here so I can add you to my Neighborhood.
We went to see this movie on Saturday night. The much-hyped Paranormal Activity starring two previously unknown actors and a supporting cast of unknowns, as well. It was sort of a "Blair-Witch-Style" production - one of the lead characters films everything on a home video camera, although, the film got so much exposure before-hand there was no question as to the authenticity of it - I don't think anyone was misled to believe that these were actual events "caught on film" - but then I frequently overestimate the intelligence of my fellow-movie-goers, so I could be wrong.
Yoplait Light Thick & Creamy Key Lime Pie flavor.
Everyone - and I mean EVERYONE should read this. The Bhutanese people - the most beautiful people I've EVER seen or heard of. EVER.
Read this article from 2002. I watched a PBS FRONTLINE program on Bhutan tonight and was brought to tears by the sheer beauty of this country, its culture and government - the 4th King of Bhutan coined the term Gross National Happiness.
http://www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/bhutan/gnh.html
So, now I want to renounce materialism, move into the wildernesss, build a yurt and live off-grid - with chickens, goats, solar and wind-power. Was I born too late, or too soon - or just in the wrong place? Hard to say. Maybe I can't change the world, but I can make some small part of it more beautiful for a little while. I really hope you will read the article I linked above.
Dear Father of my children, Man with whom I thought I'd be spending the rest of my life - you know who you are -
I know you sometimes read my blog, here. That's okay. I stopped minding that a while ago. I appreciate that you do not attempt to discuss with me anything you have read here over the past 2 years. I know you know how I feel about that. You know that I need outlets and that I like getting feedback from my scattered internets friends - so making everything here private is not an easy thing for me to do - though I have done that with the writing that could stir controversey on a personal level between us. I keep a lot of things to myself, as well. I practice this moreso now than ever - and you know me better than anyone on the planet, so I know you are aware of how difficult a thing that is for me to do.
So, today I'm actually writing this because I want you to read these words. These words (and this song) are for you...
I stopped believing that any kind of reconciliation would be possible for us quite some time ago. I know you have moved on. You have been in a relationship with someone else for some time. Yet, somehow I never really managed to let go.
You're neither friend nor foe, though I can't seem to let you go - the one thing I know is that you're keeping me down - you're keeping me down.
This time of year is always difficult for me. I can't help but think about our last few weeks together. That early Spring morning when it was frigid and snowing and we made our last trip to the market together. I think I cried in every aisle of the store as you pushed the cart, the kids riding and getting buried in the basket under the items you took from the shelves. I remember that day with such palpable, breathtaking accuracy - it hurts sharply. Makes me wish my memory was not so vivid.
The truth is that I am so broken - two years after the end of our relationship, I feel no more healed than I did when it was fresh - in fact, I think I feel less capable and less healthy; more lonely and in more pain.
I will always be grateful to you for being the foundation of love and care and stability for the children that you are. You are stronger than I ever hoped you could be. I did not believe I could recover from it. When I dream that we are still living in our home at La Luz and I wake up alone in a hotel room and see the photo frames of the children on the desk across the room, I feel like I can't breathe. My heart stops and I pray for sleep to return so that I can go back into the dream where we are all together; in our home on a summer morning, flitting around the kitchen laughing and smiling, listening to music, washing dishes, planning an afternoon poolside and looking forward to an evening alone together after the kids fall asleep; sitting on the back patio under the stars enjoying a drink together, both of us barefoot. I can still feel the warm skin of your forearm where I used to stroke it and make you smile. You always smiled and said, "I love your touch."
It was so difficult - and once felt impossible - that I might ever desire similar moments of tenderness with anyone else. I know it is time to let go.
There was one night during the "negotiating" phase of our breakup when we sat in the living room and you surprised me by playing John Mayer's Continuum cd - which you had just purchased on iTunes - for me. Earlier that week we had an argument about how I felt you were always critical of the things I loved - and you seized an opportunity to show me that you cared about the music I loved even if you didn't like it as much, you were willing to experience it with me. Thank you for doing that.
I'm sorry it took me so long to get over you. I'm sorry that it placed even MORE strain on our difficult parenting relationship. But I am better now.
A lot has changed since I originally wrote this over 6 months ago. I have decided to leave the post alone for the most part, except to add that I really DID find writing this therapeutic and I really HAVE moved on, healed, gotten better and gotten over you. I do still appreciate everything you have done and continue to do for the children - they adore you and I thank you. I no longer suffer the pangs of regret and sadness I wrote about above - and for that I am grateful and at peace. I have completely new and not altogether dissimilar moments of tenderness with my new love, but that neither negates nor diminishes what you and I shared. And I am so grateful for what we had because it helped to make me who I am today - and I am so very loved and so very happy just as I am.
I need a nap. Mind you, I've only been awake since 9 this morning. The kids watched a never-ending Hannah Montana marathon on Disney yesterday afternoon while I spend 3 hours cooking a turkey and all of the accompanying items. I didn't go ALL out - no sweet potatoes and no gravy (I know - this is a crime in some states, especially in South Carolina where I learned most of my cooking skills - but there is only so much food my 2 small children and I can eat and the freezer is tiny, okay?) So - Turkey, cornbread stuffing (not stuffed into turkey - just cooked as side dish), spinach au-gratin, mashed yukon gold potatoes, steamed carrots; pumpkin pie for dessert. It was still way more food than necessary and I am going to have to freeze some of the turkey.
So, I was washing the bird and getting it ready for the oven - and I had a most harrowing experience. First of all, I'm not a fan of touching raw poultry of any kind - chicken or turkey or any other fowl - especially the skin - gross. But - I do my best to just detach myself and push away any thoughts of the "carcass" having once been a live animal - eep - I can't even think about it. So, yesterday as I was washing that bird (I had a fresh 10-lb hen from Trader Joe's) - I noticed that there were WAY more quills still stuck in the skin than I felt there should have been for something that cost $2.29/lb. I paid almost $25 for that freakin' turkey and I still had to put in approximately 60 minutes of prep-time JUST to get it oven-ready. It was unpleasant, to say the least. I think I may have to write a letter. (Gahd, that sounds so stupid. "I may have to write a letter." FEH!!)
So after my kids did their usual re-arranging of the food on their plates, I had the task of cleaning up. I'm not ashamed to say, although I've been single for about 2 years now, this was the first actual holiday dinner I cooked entirely on my own - in that I did EVERYTHING including the clean-up with NO HELP AT ALL. I'm also not ashamed to say that it sucked big-time. I did it for my kids, and I'd do it again - although I'm not sure at their age that they'll even remember that I did it - but - there it is. Last year I cooked for a friend and after dinner we did clean up together which was nice. Of course, Christmas is coming and I'll gladly do it all over again for my little ones - just not with any kind of poultry - perhaps I will make some kind of roast...
Anyway - it was a lovely time and now I must go pass out - or eat least go lay like broccoli on the living room couch watching old movies.
I've been watching old movies lately:
Funny Face
My Fair Lady
Imitation of Life
Wild is the Wind
West Side Story
...to name a few. I should really review them - because, I think that people of my age and younger should re-visit these films - or see them for a first time, possibly - to be reminded of what movies were like before CGI and digital enchancement - to see good old-fashioned entertainers who had talents - multiple talents: singing, acting, dancing - and to see the value of cinema from that age of hollywood. I find it thrilling and beautiful - and I'm so easily caught up in the theatrical productions - it's sometimes much more like a live theater experience than any of today's films can be.
This is a photo of my friend, Evan, a.k.a. "Evan, the Norse God of EVERYTHING" I'm not sure what exactly he thinks he is doing to that cloud formation - perhaps he CREATED IT - being the Norse GOD OF EVERYTHING, that is certainly not outside the realm of possibility. Oh, how I love me some Evan. That silly bastard.
Evan recently moved to San Diego. For this, I hate him. Of course, I don't REALLY hate him - I just - well - I DESPISE him for calling my attention to the gaping wound in my heart where he once so comfortably fit. Sure, we're still friends and junk, but, I can no longer fondle his triceps, and "accidentally" rub my breasts against him when I pass by. Nor can I be the lone person in a silent room of dimwits laughing at his jokes when no one else understands them. For these reasons and so many more, I am sad today, missing him. My Norse-God-Evan. O, Evan, where art thou? And this one's for you, Ev.
This is the story of how I have been cured of desire. I mean in the sense of having any desire whatsoever to date men. I no longer require male attention. I no longer need the company of a man. I have no desire for social interaction with men. Here is how it went down:
Dating experience #1: Coffee with strange man.
My entre into the dating scene after the demise of my last relationship can be summed up in one phrase:
He took it out. Indeed. In broad daylight at a coffee shop. Yeah. I left. I wanted to yell, "I'm OUT!" but I was able to refrain as I didn't want to encourage a scene of any kind after he proved himself brave enough to take it out - figured I shouldn't push it with the crazy. I stood up quietly and walked out to my car and drove away. Fin.
If that wasn't bad enough - I pressed on... with a different man, of course - because, seriously? Um, no.
Dating experience #2: DJ Yogi in the sticks.
After numerous all-night conversations and hours-upon-hours of texting, IM'ing, emails and phone calls at all hours of the day and night...I got brave and decided to make the drive up to the middle of nowhere out in the sticks. If you have any knowledge of my automobile, this was a braver than average move. Add to that the fact that it was SNOWING - yes, snowing in a blizzard-like-fashion - making the drive twice as long as it typically would have been. SNOWING. I had already driven over 60 miles at this point and the idea of turning around seemed even more ridiculous than just going the rest of the way - about 20 more miles - in the dark, in the snow - still - I couldn't fathom the turning back thing at that point. According to DJ Yogi (barely out of a marriage), I was far too hesitant for our first meeting. Even after I spent the evening with this fine gentleman, he found my apprehension - my hesitance to fully surrender myself to a person I had only met a few hours prior - a big turnoff for him. I'm going to cut this portion of the story short and allow myself to sum up by leaving a short list:
- Sikhism is a beautiful thing.
- Shoe fetish.
- Magic lotion.
- Some people demand perfection; I don't deliver.
Dating experience #3: Love at first sight OR Unrequited love is for STUPID PEOPLE (like me)
Meet single-dad for coffee. He and I have been talking to one another for just a few DAYS. In person he is even MORE attractive than I thought he'd be - I'm talking exponentially hotter than I ever imagined he could be. He's incredibly tall and makes amazing eye contact with me. Everything about our conversation from the eye contact to the intellectual content to the body language is INTENSE.
I am so attracted to this man; and we seem to be mutually connecting - it's incredible. I am flying high. He walks me out to my car. Within moments of driving away, he calls my mobile and tells me he wants to see me again. He says, he hopes he is not being too forward, but he'd like to make dinner for me and watch a movie with me - Mostly Martha - a German film. We have similar taste in food, literature, film. We have similar philosophies about parenting, life, love. It all seemed to CLICK in a way I have never CLICKED with anyone before - well, in a way I never imagined I could click with anyone EVER - seriously. I was so euphoric I was scaring myself. (Red flag, perhaps? Oh, no, not for ME.) 4 days later I see him at his apartment - we had been chatting online and my kids were with their dad and he had just put his 2 kids to bed and I happened - by sheer coincidence - to be at a wi-fi hotspot cafe only blocks away from his apartment - I had no idea where he lived before that evening. He invited me over - to talk. He had a refrigerator magnet that was a small metal container with a window in the lid - inside it were threads of saffron. Boxes of tea and spice jars were scattered on the countertops in his kitchen. The sink held quite a few dirty dishes. The entire apartment was in a state of general disarray. Single parenthood being what it is, and having first-hand knowledge of such, I did not judge him in the least by the state of his apartment. We sat together on his living room couch and talked and then we stared into one another's eyes for a time and then kissed. I've never been kissed with such passion. NEVER. I still cannot believe I had to wait until I was 37 years old to be kissed like that. It was seriously worth the wait, though. I'm not even being the tiniest bit sarcastic. Oh. My. God. Incredible. I could easily wax poetic about just the kissing for so long that I'd lose 100% of my vox-readers. Yes, truly, all 3 of you would go away and never come back - so I'll move on... Basically - what I learned from this experience is that even when I think I am dialing it down a notch, I am still WAY more than most men can handle. And I was dialing it down more than just a few notches in this case - I was holding back like nobody's business.
Here we insert a LONG break - during which I met and messed around with a few men but never even considered any type of emotional investment with ANY of them.
Dating experience #4: Virgin Wool Knitter (cotton-blend, really - but you'll get my meaning)
We meet for "milkshakes" - although I had an old-fashioned phosphate soda - cherry - at a retro-diner type place in-town. Nice man. A little shy for my taste. Reminds me a bit of my first husband - the engineer. We talk a few hours and agree to meet again.
About a week later we meet for dinner in Nob Hill. He brings me a rose. I'm simultaneously charmed and turned off by the gesture. (This makes me a total jerk. I know.) We share a pizza. Afterwards he suggests gelato. There's a funky little place about a block away with awesomely weird flavor combinations to where we walk over and have gelato. He's a perfect gentleman. Oh, I skipped the part about how I fell asleep in the afternoon and was an HOUR late for dinner with him. He was totally sweet and understanding about the whole thing - and never mentioned it again. I am a TOTAL JERK. I know. We talked a lot about college - courses we had both taken in college - and about physics and stuff like that. Nice conversation. No chemistry between us - but I totally enjoy his company and friendship - very easy and relaxed. Total platonic vibe. We part ways and as I am driving home I have a light-bulb moment: HE IS A VIRGIN. A 40-something-year-old-virgin - and I am SURE of it.
He calls me 2 weeks later - I had my kids the following week - and invites me to go to dinner and a movie. We agree on the new Batman movie and I kind of geek out over the idea of actually seeing it in the theater. I am a major fan of Christian Bale in EVERYTHING he has done and especially fond of him as Batman in Batman Begins so I know I'm going to love this one. Anyway - the night of "the date" arrives and I actually wore a dress. This is shocking for two reasons: I rarely wear dresses. I knew that the vibe was strictly platonic, but I wanted to throw the virgin a bone because, obviously, no one else has and he is a SUPER nice guy - so I'm taking a break from being weird and stand-offish and I'm trying to act like a "typical girl" for once. Movie is excellent, however, very dark and kind of depressing (in my opinion). Dinner afterwards at Bennigan's. Conversation again about college, classes, friends, etc. and work. Some talk even about high school - interesting - not terribly enlightening or revealing in either my case or his. After dinner he takes me home and insists on getting my door for me - he walks me up the driveway and we kiss before I go inside. All very innocent and civilized. I begin to think that maybe I could like this guy more than I originally thought.
Next day I call to thank him for the date. We talk about the fact that neither of us has plans for the evening and I go out on a limb and invite him to dinner. Thinking that surely, if this guy is really NOT a virgin (and I'm just being obnoxiously judgmental - which is a distinct possiblity) SOMETHING is going to happen if I invite him to my house and make him dinner, right? He comes over with dvd's in-hand. I make dinner - simple baked chicken and salad and some garlic-butter biscuits. We eat and put the movie on - Knocked Up. Funny.
There a few slightly uncomfortable moments in the film - uncomfortable because - well - from the title I'm sure you can guess. But, then, really, it's funny and sweet for the most part and usually I am not at ALL embarassed by any kind of sexual humor - or sexual anything, really, to be honest - but in this case, I am feeling slightly uncomfortable. I also find it ironic that the male lead in this film plays a character in "The Forty-Year-Old Virgin." Uh huh. So...
After the movie - it's pretty late - after 10 and I'm feelin' sleepy after a day full of housework - took advantage of a kid-free weekend and actually DID some shit around the house that needed to be done. And, so, I am picking things up and preparing to send him off and he says, "Oh - I have something for you - I'll be right back!" He goes out to his car and returns within 2 mintues - holding TWO HANDKNITTED WASHCLOTHS - one yellow and green, the other blue and purple. He places them in my hand, "I knitted these for you. I knit." He grins sheepishly and I am so completely speechless in this moment that all I could do was say, "Wow. Thanks." I had no other words - because really I wanted to say, "Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?" But that would have revealed to him INSTANTLY that I AM A TOTAL JERK. So - I smiled and told him I really enjoyed his company this evening. We hugged and he left. I locked the door and went to bed. Still in shock over the KNITTING portion of the evening. I'm not saying there is ANYTHING at all wrong with a guy knitting. In fact, a man who knits could TOTALLY be a turn-on - it's kinda hot, as a matter of fact - it was just the whole presentation of the two "washcloths" that was such a surprise - I had no response - neither emotional nor intellectual - to such a scenario. I was hoping for sex and I GOT WASHCLOTHS. Yes. That is WAY TOO MUCH TO PROCESS. I know. For a moment I felt like my life is a bad 1990's sit-com. Not near the quality of Seinfeld - but attempting to rip off the non-content humor of Seinfeld. Nothing happens, but it feels so real. Almost like real-life. Uh huh. You WISH your life was this full of THE FUNNY. Don't you? No. How COULD you?
Also: I am a total jerk.
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Hahahahaha. Damn, that's funny. read more
on Lasagna.